Page 61 of The Amendment

“No, you’ve gotta believe me… It’s a misunderst—” He blinked again, cutting himself off, one hand on his head. “I have no idea where you got that, but I swear to you… It’s… It’s not me!”

I stepped back, sliding my phone into my pocket as he fought to stand up, leaning his full weight on the bookshelf behind his desk. It wouldn’t be long now.

I pulled the knife from my pocket, pointing it directly between his legs.

“That’ll be easy enough to prove, considering the disgusting birthmark on your leg.”

He eyed the knife, still in disbelief. “Those things can be…edited. Come on, Ainsley. You… You know me. You know how much I love these girls,” he pleaded.

“Oh, yes. I know all about that.”

“I’m not capable of this.”

“It’s a funny thing. What people are capable of. They always manage to surprise you.”

He stood again, his arms and legs out wide, trying to prevent himself from toppling over. “I don’t feel good… Seriously, what did you give me?”

“Not much time now. Better find somewhere soft to land.”

“Wha—”

Before he could finish the question, his knees gave outand he dropped to the floor, his head hitting the hardwood with a loud thud.

I huffed out a sigh and stood over him, watching him breathe. I could’ve killed him right then—I wanted to, even—but that wasn’t the plan. I slipped the knife back into my pocket and adjusted the cap, turning back toward the door to get Peter’s help. I stopped short, gasping when I heard a noise behind me.

Was he waking up? I’d given him enough sedative to kill him, or knock him out for days at the very least.

Buzzz…

Buzzz…

Buzzz…

I spun back around. The sound was coming from inside his desk. Pulling my sleeves over my hands, I stepped over him and peered inside the top drawer he’d torn open. His phone lay faceup, a woman’s portrait and name on the screen.

Joanna.

A dance mom, perhaps?

She was pretty. Too old for his taste, maybe, but… My eyes trailed the length of his desk, noticing the pictures I’d never seen before. The same woman who was on his screen was in the pictures. They were smiling, gazing at each other with warm, loving stares. In the next picture, their arms wrapped around each other, their lips locked together.

They seemed happy.

In love.

Didn’t she know what a monster he was?

Joanna…

Coach wasn’t married. Was this a new girlfriend? A fiancée?

Fuck.

I slammed the drawer shut, trying to think.

Coach was one thing—he deserved it. But we’d believed he was single, just like Jim. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone who’d really be looking for him. A simple text saying he was going out of town for a while was going to solve this. The assistant coaches could pick up his slack and no one was meant to miss him.

Would Joanna complicate that plan?

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